Save the Shark, Jump the Douchebag on the Skis
by JUSTxAxFRIENDLYxPSYCHO
Summary: Sometimes, Fate opens a door, lends you a hand, in the least expected way. When Winchester luck is involved, it is hard to say whether or not this is a good thing. [Complete, For Now...]
1. Chapter 1

**Save the Shark, Jump the Douchebag on the Skis**

 **Summary:** Sometimes, Fate opens a door, lends you a hand, in the least expected way. When Winchester luck is involved, it is hard to say whether or not this is a good thing.

 **Disclaimer:** Do not own Harry Potter characters/locations/etc. Neither do I own anything from Supernatural. I just wanted to try my hand at a slightly different cross-over fic with a slightly different take on both the "fem!HP" and "HP is [so and so's] relative" tropes.

 **Warnings:** Blood and gore, supernatural elements, Dean's attitude (and language, and sexual habits, and...you get the picture), outrageous abuse and discarding of canon, and unapologetic representations of female sexuality/sexual habits (no slut shaming, at all, ever).

 **Warning 2.0:** Author, like a magpie, has a tendency to get distracted with things bright and shiny. Or Real Life. Or other stories that are not cooperating at the moment. So, updating might be erratic. Fair warning.

 **Chapter Warning:** A bit of a sex scene in this (in case the title didn't make that clear). Nothing explicit, but still very obvious sex going on.

…

"Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along"-Terry Pratchett

…

 **Prelude to the Clusterf*ck: In Which the Two Lovers Meet (and Make Babies)**

Kate Milligan could say, with absolutely no exaggeration, that she was very good at her job. At just 30 years old, she ran a tight ship as Head Nurse of the local E.R., sat on the board of a few local organizations committed to feeding the homeless and helping recovering addicts get back on their feet, and still found time to put her feet up at the end of the day. Nobody who knew Kate would be surprised by this. She was, and always had been, relentlessly, stubbornly energetic. The quintessential "go getter."

On the other hand, anyone who had ever known Lily Evans would be remarkably shocked...not by her successes, no, but by the fact that she seemed content to all but disappear into the obscurity of muggle life. It wasn't the muggle part so much as the obscurity part. Lily Evans was made to do great things in and for the Wizarding World.

Until eleven years ago, Lily would have humbly agreed that yes, she was going to do great things for Magicals everywhere, regardless of the limits her world would try to place on her because of the circumstances of her birth. She wasn't ashamed of her muggle roots, but felt them keenly every time she ran into a roadblock put in place to keep "her kind" firmly on the lower rung of the power structure.

Even with all the frustratingly backwards thinking in place in the magical world, Lily had never considered leaving it to settle in the muggle world. She had had a promising offer from the Department of Mysteries, a beloved-albeit aggravating husband-and a child on the way. Then, real life caught up...the war caught up.

The raid was brutal—over in minutes, but bloody and relentlessly brutal. Even as fast as the Order and the allied Aurors struck, the Death Eaters and Dark sympathizers struck back harder. Blood splattered stone walls, staining the wooden doors and support beams, running like rivers down the gutters. Lily tripped, swallowing back against her bile as the crack of bone echoed loudly in her ears. An arm. She had tripped on an arm, all pulp and bloody flesh, that had been severed just above the elbow.

By the end of it, her robes were a bit singed and her hair mussed, but she felt fine...a little shaken, but fine. It wasn't til an hour later, as she slowly washed the blood off her neck in the small sink of the Leaky Cauldron's water closet, that she started to bleed. It came thick and fast, slicking her thighs. She had just enough time to cry out before she passed out. When she awoke, she was in hospital and her baby—her Harry—was gone. James, always the martyr, had blamed himself, and all but shoved her out the door for her own safety.

Lily and James had, of course, argued before, but this was one of their loudest, by far. Were it any less serious of a situation, she was pretty sure she would have found Sirius' stark terror at the look on her face quite amusing. As is, she was understandably distracted arguing the point that no measly war was going to make her leave her husband. James, too, had argued...she was still sick from the miscarriage and needed to be somewhere where she could rest, recover, and figure out what she wanted to do now.

To be honest, it was this calm, collected rationale that was usually so beyond her hothead that stopped her in her tracks. She needed rest, it was true, and time to get her head straight, yes, but...that didn't mean she couldn't still do her part to help, stay by her husband's side and figure it out together.

"Lils, please. The stress will kill you...it almost did. Did they...did they tell you that you almost died when you miscarried, because...I cannot lose you like that. I just can't. Even if it means you have to go somewhere I can't follow, that's better than having you here and having to watch you kill yourself with stress."

Lily may be many things—stubborn, brilliant, strong—but she was also willing to admit that seeing that lost, terrified look on her husband's teary face had frightened her. She had never wanted to be a source of pain for James.

So, in the end, she'd agreed to leave England for a bit, finally settling in Bumfuck, Minnesota under her brand, shiny-new assumed name—Kate Milligan. For the first six months, it was fine...there wasn't much to do while recovering, but she knew she couldn't rush it, so allowed herself the freedom to relax, enjoy exploring her new town, seeing what it had to offer. Still, after six months, she needed to do something with her time, even if it meant using every tool and cheat at her disposal to do so. In the end, she chose to return to school, picking up a few classes here and there. At the end of her first year, she gave in and applied for the nursing program.

It was a change from researcher and archivist, but went a long way towards helping her recover from the trauma of loosing little Harry. Lily—no, Kate—may not have been able to save her first child, but she was working towards a career that would allow her to save others—infants and adults alike, so that some other mother wouldn't have to go through what she had. That, more than any innate brilliance, probably went a long way towards making the long hours bearable.

Her initial struggles with the course load and long hours aside, her aptitude for medicine was less surprising to her than how much she truly loved doing it. She may have the maternal instinct, but she never would have seen herself as a healer before...well, _before_. In the end, Lil—Kate suspected that it was her happiness with her (muggle) career and her (muggle) life in the tiny (muggle) town that really started The Fight.

When she'd first told her husband that she'd gone back to school for something to do, James had been happy for her...happy that she'd found a "brief distraction" to take up her time while her body, and heart, and magic healed. After Lily wrote about nursing school, James was a little less pleased...still happy that she was happy, but dubious about the what she could actually do with such a qualification once she came home.

It was only when _Kate_ ("I'm not Lily anymore, James...I can't be her, not here") wrote with the good news that she was starting her residency that things turned sour. James, of course, was pleased that she was recovering well and finding herself and all, but was markedly unimpressed with the idea of her committing to any career that she couldn't leave in a few months.

Lily,

I extend you my congrats, but are you sure about this? It's not that I mind you working or anything, Lils, but don't you think it's a tad irresponsible to committing yourself to this? I mean, it's not like Saint Mungo's are going to give a damn about muggle medicine qualifications.

-James

. . .

James,

Of course I'm sure...why would you even ask that? Anyway, I don't understand why you assume I want to work at Saint Mungo's. I like it here, I like working at the E.R. It's a good place, has good people, and I can do some good, here.

-Lily

. . .

Lily,

I don't understand why you don't understand my assumption. If you want to work as a Healer, where else would you work? And, good or no, you're going to have to give it up eventually, when you get back.

-James

. . .

I don't see why I should have to give up anything. It's not like you actually work; there's no reason why we have to stay in England, why you can't come here and be with me.

-Lily

. . .

Here's TWO reasons: 1) there's a fucking war on, Lily. You may be content to play at muggle healer in the middle of muggle nowhere, but I am sure as shite not, and 2) I have better things to do with my time than swan about in the styx.

-James

. . .

You pompous arsehat. Is it the fact that it's America or muggle that bothers you the most? I mean, you seemed happy enough to let me 'swan about' and 'play at muggle healer' when it meant you didn't have to be inconvenienced, and now that I am asking you to do this one thing for me, it is suddenly a big issue?

-Lily

. . .

Yes, it is an issue. I thought you'd distract yourself for a while then come home. How was I to know that you'd expect me to give up magic?

-J

. . .

I never said you have to give up anything, just...come live here with me. We can still visit England, and the magical districts. Just...I don't see why I'm expected to give up what I love doing because you can't be arsed to compromise on this.

-L

. . .

That's obvious. You're my wife...

-J

. . .

...and you're my husband; Having a prick doesn't mean your opinion automatically outranks mine. We are supposed to be a team about things like this.

-L

. . .

Yeah, well if being a 'team' means I have to leave England for the American backwoods, then I guess I don't want to be a team player about this.

-J

. . .

You're seriously not even going to consider it. Not even if it means I don't come home.

-L

. . .

...guess not.

-J

. . .

Perhaps it was his unwillingness to compromise, too stark a reminder of his days as selfish school boy, or the distance, or the fatalistic frame of mind brought on by the loss of her son. Whatever the case, Lily hadn't just sighed and given in, promising herself to revisit the issue once she could see her husband, face to face. War and distance had hardened him...so much, Lily could easily confess to not shedding a single tear the day she decided she was not, in fact, returning to England.

So, Kate Milligan (no longer Lily Potter, _never again_ Lily Evans) had gone her way, and her ex had gone his...and so, this is where she was. Just 30, working a late shift in the E.R., when the tall, dark behemoth of a man that was John Winchester stumbled into her life.

…

John Winchester was a damn fine specimen of manhood, to be sure. The man was built like a brick wall, with a thatch of beautifully dark hair, and eyes so very sad, and so very kind, at the same time. Despite his dirty jeans, and the sheen of bloody sweat on his forehead, he was striking. He didn't say much, but smiled politely as cleaned his lacerations and stitched up the nasty gash on his temple.

"Thanks."

"Of course. That's what I'm here for." John flashed her a small, dimpled grin and Kate felt her knees tremble.

"All the same, thanks."

OK, so...Kate was ridiculously attracted. She wasn't smitten, no, but definitely attracted. Deft fingers wiped away the last of the blood, and she flashed him another smile as she moved to dispose of the cotton swabs. She barely paid it any mind as she heard the rustle of the man's clothes as he rose from the hospital bed.

"I can get the doctor to give you a prescription for pain meds, if you need them. Otherwise, try to keep the stitches dry and clean. I'll give you an extra few gauze pads and some disinfectant."

Kate turned, startling a bit with how close the man was standing...and that little dimpled smile of his. Ye, Gods. She swallowed, cursing the flush that she knew was staining her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, and forehead a bright, unflattering pink.

"Thanks...I'd like to treat you to dinner, as a thanks, if you'll let me."

For a moment, it was on the tip of Kate's tongue to say no. Honestly, she was only doing her job, there was no reason for him to go out of his way, but...but. She very much wanted to go to dinner with this man. It had been, what, five years since she'd been attracted to a man, and even longer since she'd had sex. She was only human, and, well...John wasn't an eyesore, that was for damn sure.

"Dinner would be nice, but none of this 'thank you' stuff...I was happy to do it."

The man smiled, his dimples lighting up his haggard face. Gods, but this man was beautiful. Not beautiful in a way that many would consider such, as it was a very gruff, very ubermasculine beautiful, but all the same...he was truly beautiful.

The Pizza Palace—the only real pizzeria Wisdom, Minnesota could rustle up—wasn't classy, but the Margherita calzone was decent and the beer was cold enough that the watered down taste wasn't terrible. The not-quite-shy grin he'd given her when she'd laughed, swiping at the smear of sauce on his chin, had been worth it. If Kate pressed back into him tightly when he'd stood behind her, showing her how to line up a shot at the pool table, nobody could blame her. There was just something about this man that felt solid, like he could handle anything the world threw at him.

Kate crowed, dancing a bit in place as she sunk another ball into the pocket. John laughed, deep and loud, at her victory dance. "You're a natural."

"I guess I am." Kate danced over to John's side, smirking as she grabbed his beer, and took a deep drink of it. Her date squawked playfully, and tugged her close. She smiled, hopping up onto her toes to press her beer-chilled lips to his.

Well. No matter what else she could say about John Winchester, Kate could say, with 100 percent surety, that the man could kiss. For a moment, she felt like a droopy-eyed romantic comedy heroine, with fluttering lashes, curling toes, and all. Good God Damn, but Kate wanted to take this man to bed with her. She pressed against him, smirking against his lips as he hummed, happily.

Her voice was hoarse when she finally pulled back from the kiss. "Fair warning, but I'm planning on seducing you tonight, Mr. Winchester."

His dark eyes crinkled, those goddamn gorgeous dimples accenting his soft smile. "Are you now, Ms. Milligan."

"Yes, sir."

"Sounds like a plan, then."

. . .

She was pretty sure it was common courtesy to show a guest around your house after inviting them in for the first time. As it was, Kate wasn't really in the frame of mind to bother with common courtesy, not with John doing things to her neck that were all but halting higher brain function. His lips were just so hot against her skin, and...right. Stairwell. Bedroom. She was a woman with a plan, and...

...warm, calloused hands slipped under her shirt, trailing up her stomach, as he pressed tighter against her back. He was hard against the small of her back, and so warm, and...what had she been thinking about plans? Right. Upstairs. John sucked at the tender spot right under her pulse point.

Screw plans, the couch would do, for now.

Kate turned in John's arms, letting him tug her shirt up over her head, his clever fingers working at the clasp of her bra as she tugged at his jeans, popping open the little button, and tugging at the zip. The back of her thighs hit the arm of the couch, and Kate let John lift her to perch on the edge as he stepped out of his jeans, helping her tug his shirt over his head.

Fuuuuuck. This man.

Kate tugged John to her, moaning against warm lips as his hands trailed up the outside of her thighs, pushing her skirt up her hips. Her knees parted as he pressed close, and she trembled as her bare breasts pressed into his bare, hard chest. Hands dug into the man's beautiful back, tugging him close.

Kate felt a gentle finger tug at the seat of her underwear, and she let out a gasp. She only had a moment to shiver at the feeling of air against her exposed warmth before John pressed into her. Her hips hitched, moving into his thrust, and she cried out. Hard hands tugged her hips forward, helping her move into his thrusts.

After that, she didn't think for a while, content to just enjoy her time with John for what it was...the best goddamn sex she'd had in _years_.

She lost count after her third orgasm, though she was pretty sure there were a few more after that. However many there were, they were all enough to leave her clinging and moaning to the man moving above her. The fact that John was just as vocal, if not more so, than her...well, she was sure her neighbors would be giving her the side eye...

Kate wasn't too surprised to see that he was gone in the morning, but the little note sitting on her side table was strangely charming.

Kate,

I had a really amazing time with you last night. I hate to leave like this, but I really can't stay. Still, if you ever need me for anything, call me. The number at the bottom is how you can reach me, if you need to.

-John

. . .

It was strange seeing the hospital from the side of the patient, especially considering...well, after she'd lost Harry all those years ago, and after James and she parted ways, she never assumed she'd be in hospital, not for this.

Kate turned her head, exhausted, to look at two hospital bassinets parked at the side of her bed. She had never expected to be a mother, not after last time, but felt unexpectedly blessed, despite the pain, as she took in the small, delicate features of her little boy and little girl—her Adam and Evelyn.

She only wished she had the courage to find John, to thank him. Maybe one day, when the twins were older, they would have the chance to meet the man that had changed her life for the better.

[end]


	2. Chapter 2

**Save the Shark, Jump the Douchebag on the Skis**

 **Summary:** Sometimes, Fate opens a door, lends you a hand, in the least expected way. When Winchester luck is involved, it is hard to say whether or not this is a good thing.

 **Disclaimer:** Do not own Harry Potter characters/locations/etc. Neither do I own anything from Supernatural. I just wanted to try my hand at a slightly different cross-over fic with a slightly different take on both the "fem!HP" and "HP is [so and so's] relative" tropes.

 **Warnings:** Blood and gore, supernatural elements, Dean's attitude (and language, and sexual habits, and...you get the picture), outrageous abuse and discarding of canon, and unapologetic representations of female sexuality/sexual habits (no slut shaming, at all, ever).

 **Warning 2.0:** Author, like a magpie, has a tendency to get distracted with things bright and shiny. Or Real Life. Or other stories that are not cooperating at the moment. So, updating might be erratic. Fair warning.

 **Chapter Warning:** Not really relevant, unless you consider a bit of filler-fluff worthy of a warning.

…

"Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along"-Terry Pratchett

…

 **Family Reunions Are Awkward (Except When They're Not)**

Evelyn nudged Adam in the ribs, ignoring his scowl as she wedged herself next to her twin in the tiny gap between the wall and the couch. Honestly, she didn't know what he expected...she was curious about their mom's guest, too. The man was tall, thin, and had messy black hair streaked with gray.

Had she not heard their—hers and Adam's—mom describe their dad so many times, she would have assumed it was this guy, but...no. He was all wrong. He was too tall, too skinny, and she was pretty sure that her dad wasn't an Englishman who wore glasses. Still, that didn't make her (or her brother) any less curious about the man standing in the middle of their living room, staring oddly at pictures of Adam and her at their ninth birthday party.

Evelyn ducked behind the back of couch, tugging at Adam's sleeve, when their mom wandered into the room. She heard shoes on carpet as her mom moved towards their guest, still just staring at the pictures on the mantle. Honestly, all the staring was kind of creepy.

"James. I never thought I'd see the day that you'd set foot in this house."

The man—James—hummed under his breath. "Things change, Lily."

What—? Lily? Who was _Lily_?

"Kate. It's _Kate_ , James. It's been Kate for more than twenty _years_ , now."

"Fine, sorry. Kate, then."

"Thank you."

The man's footsteps trailed slowly towards the couch, and Evelyn tugged her brother closer to the floor. Adam scowled at her, plucking the neck of his shirt from her fingers, but crouched down, all the same. After a moment, the stranger settled heavily in the dusty cushions. Evelyn pinched her nose, blinking hard, trying not to sneeze as a haze of dust fell off the back of the couch. She peered at her brother. He wasn't any better off, his expression twisted as he fought back a cough.

Honestly, if she wasn't trying so hard not to sneeze, she'd be laughing. The dust had settled like a fuzzy halo around Adam's head, turning his ashy blonde hair a dirty gray. She was sure she didn't look any better, and grimaced as she wiped at her nose, leaving a dirty smear behind.

"So...kids?" Evelyn jerked, only barely stopping from slamming her head into the side table, hard, by Adam yanking her into his side. Her head collided with his ribs, and she bit her lip to keep her cry silent. She saw Adam grimace out of the corner of her eye. Good. She hoped that had hurt him as much as it had her. The dummy.

"Yes. They're my angels—Adam and Evelyn. Just turned twelve, actually."

"...and are they like us?"

"No, they're completely muggle, like their father."

Mugg-what, now?

Evelyn glanced up at the back of the man's head as it flopped back against the back rest. "So, that's it, then? There's no chance you're ever coming back to England..."

Their mom sighed, sounding more frustrated than Evelyn could ever imagine. "I said it then and I'll say it now, James. I'm happy here. I've _been_ happy here. I like my life. Even if they were like us, I'd probably send them to Salem, or home school them. If they ever wanted to go see where I grew up, meet my old school friends, sure, I'd probably take them to visit, but...it would just be a visit. Our home is here."

Evelyn met Adam's matching blue eyes, sharing a long, awkward look. It finally stuck her, when the sad silence settled heavily between their mom and the strange man, that they were intruding. Their mom, as patient as she was, might actually be really upset if she knew that they'd been spying.

"I...I'm sorry I came unannounced, like this, then. I just. I just had to see how you were, if you'd ever consider—"

"I'm sorry, James, but no."

"Alright. I'll, uh, show myself out."

Evelyn frowned, waiting with bated breath til the footsteps faded and the front door opened and closed behind the stranger. Their mom sighed, settling heavily back into the couch. "You two might as well come out, now. I'm sure it's filthy back there."

Well, shit.

Slowly, Evelyn and Adam rose out of their crouches, identical mops of blonde hair and matching sheepish blue eyes cresting the back of the couch. Their mom, looking so tired, now, turned to meet their eyes with a set that matched theirs. Evelyn saw her take in what had to be a hilarious mess of dust bunnies and dirt smudges, her lips pulling up into a smile.

"Look at you two. You look like you were rolling in the dust bunnies."

"Not _rolling_ , no." Adam smiled brightly, and Evelyn found herself nodding along with her brother.

"Just resting, a bit."

"Ah, so you were _resting_ in the dust bunnies. That makes much more sense, obviously."

Adam smirked at her and Evelyn sneakily pinched his side, dodging his retaliatory pinch. Their mom sighed, and she nudged her brother, who stuck his tongue out at her before settling down.

"I'm sure you two have a lot of questions..."

Evelyn shrugged. "Not really. Well...OK, yes, but I think I can guess about some stuff."

Their mom smiled weakly. "Oh, like what?"

"Uh, well...that you used to be 'Lily,' but now you're not. Also, that guy maybe used to be your husband?"

"Yes, that's right. What else?"

"...that guy, he's not our dad."

"...no, sweetheart, he's not." Evelyn saw Adam's shoulders droop, and reached out to squeeze his hand.

"Yeah. I thought he might be, but he didn't really look like you said our dad looked like."

Evelyn stared as her mother's lips twitched into a quiet smile. "No. Your dad, he...well, he wasn't as tall, but he was a big man, solid. Darker eyes."

Adam shifted next to her, clearing his throat a bit. She'd never known him to be hesitant, but if he was going to ask what she thought he was, she could understand. "Speaking of our dad..."

Their mother raised an eyebrow tiredly. "What do you want to know, sweetheart?"

"...when do we get to meet him?"

. . .

She stared down at the faded numbers on the piece of paper. Honestly, it had been so long she wasn't even sure this was the right number anymore. Still, she had to try. She had promised to try.

Her fingers trembled as she slowly pressed the keys, biting her lip impatiently as the phone rang.

" _Hello?_ "

"Hi...uh, do you know how I can get a hold of John Winchester?"

A pause. The whiskey soaked voice on the other end of the line was hesitant.

" _This important?_ "

"Yes."

The man seemed to pause, waiting to see if Kate would say more. After a moment of silence, a heavy sigh followed.

" _Well, I s'pose I can pass on the message._ "

She sighed. "Can you tell him Kate called for him, and needs to talk to him?"

" _Sure...Kate, was it? Have a number he can call you back..?_ "

. . .

The loud ring startled her, echoing loudly in the quiet house. Kate peered at her clock...it was going on 11 o'clock pm. Her kids were in bed, she didn't have a shift for another two days, James sure as hell wasn't going to call...she figured it could only really be two people: the man who'd promised to contact John for her, or...

" _Hello, Kate?_ "

All the breath left her chest for a moment. "John."

" _It's been a while. What's this about?_ "

"I...I probably should have told you this a while ago, but...I got pregnant that night."

She frowned at the muffled curse, more of an exhale, carried down the line. For a moment it was so silent that she feared he had hung up. "John, you still there?"

" _Yeah. Yeah, uh...I can be there in two days, around three. We can talk more then._ "

Kate bit her lip. He sounded so harried, but she wasn't sure she should let him walk into the whole "twins thing" blind. Before she could decide either way, he hung up with a muffled "good bye."

Well. That decided that, she supposed.

. . .

She wouldn't say she was fidgeting, per se. In general, she wasn't the fidgeting type. Kate's eyes darted quickly to take in the pale faces of her babies, and fought the urge to squirm. So, OK, maybe she wasn't the fidgeting type, but that didn't mean she didn't have the perfect excuse to do it. In less than an hour, he was going to be here...well, that was the plan, anyway.

Kate could admit to being more than a little nervous tracking him down after all this time. It would have been one thing to call him to catch up, but to call him out to meet two kids she'd been keeping a secret from him for twelve years? Yeah, she hadn't been expecting a warm reception. He'd sounded pleasantly surprised enough on the phone, but only time would tell what he'd say to her once the kids were out of earshot.

Her fingers twitched, bunching against her jean clad thighs as Adam tugged Evey against his side, leaning his head against the side of hers. Near identical frowns marred their faces, and Adam tugged at his sister's hair as she picked at her cuticles nervously.

"Stop that. You're gonna make yourself bleed."

"Tch. Like you're not nervous."

"I am nervous, but I'm not going to pick at my skin til it tears."

Evey snorted. "No, you're just gonna keep on fussing with my hair til it's a mess. I know you."

Kate smiled, turning her gaze back towards the door as the familiar rumble of John's classic muscle car pulled up the drive. "Adam, Evelyn...he's here."

The two straightened up, but didn't rise to their feet. She didn't blame them. She was having a hard time finding her feet at the moment, herself.

The heavy, slow steps of boots and three short knocks.

Kate rose slowly, hands shaking, and strode to the door. For a moment, she had a hard time catching her breath. Honestly, it wasn't as if she was the one meeting her father for the first time. Even if he was upset about her keeping them from him, she could take it. She reached for the door and pulled it open.

. . .

Evelyn gripped Adam's hand in hers, hard...hard enough that he tugged his hand away with a mumbled complaint. She ignored his fussing, staring into the doorway to the hall, where she could hear the low voices of her parents—her _parents_ —talking.

"John. It's been a while."

"Yeah. Too long, considering..." Her father's voice was a low, deep rumble. It reminded her of the rumble of a classic muscle car—low, raspy, and pleasant.

"I...we can talk later. I promise. Just...they're waiting for you."

"...They?" Evelyn glanced over at Adam, who had perked up at the surprise in their father's voice.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you over the phone, but...we have twins, John."

" _Twins_?"

"Yeah...Adam and Evelyn."

A shaky sigh, followed by the sound of footsteps, echoed down the hall. She rose to her feet as the footsteps approached, and saw Adam rise to his feet out of the corner of her eye.

...and then, he was standing in there. He wasn't quite as their mother had described him, but that was to be expected. It had been twelve, closer to thirteen, years since she'd seen him, last. Even so, he was every bit the tall, solid man he'd been described as. True, his hair was liberally streaked with gray, but it still retained some of the black their mom recalled so fondly. His eyes, accented with a few, deep creases, were just as sad and just as kind as she'd always been told.

Slowly, he approached them. Evelyn held her breath as he came to a stop within grasping distance. Slowly, those big arms rose to pull her close. He seemed unsure of his welcome, but she fell eagerly into the hug he offered. After a moment, she stepped back to let the man embrace her brother.

A soft, brilliant smile stretched his lips as he gazed at them. "Look at you. You two look...you look like your mother."

Evelyn laughed wetly, swiping at the tears gathering on her lashes. She heard her mom laugh behind her, her voice a happy trill. "They have your smile, John."

That soft smile, again. "Yeah, they do."

. . .

She bit into her hotdog with gusto, licking the juices and stray drizzle of mustard from her lips as she swallowed. Adam laughed, and she nudged his shoulder just as her brother raised his dog to take a bit. The mustard left a messy streak across his chin, and he scowled.

"Brat."

"Jerk-face."

John laughed, and Evelyn turned to beam at him. The crackle of the ancient P.A. System was jarring, and she turned in her seat to look down at the ball field.

" _...and, batting for the Minnesota Twins, rookie second seater, JOE DALLAS!"_

Adam leaned forward in his seat, eyes focused on the game, and she turned her attention back to her hotdog.

" _...here's the pitch...and, FOUL BALL!"_

A rough hand ruffled her mess of curls, tugging some loose from the low ponytail. Evelyn looked up to see John—her _dad_ smiling at her. "Enjoying the game?"

"Yeah, actually. Adam and I don't get to do things like this, really."

"No?"

She shrugged. "Mom works lots of doubles at the E.R. on the weekends, and Adam and I have school during the week, so..."

John hummed and seemed to consider her for a few minutes. "Well, I freed up some time for the rest of this week, so how 'bout you, your brother and I go out again tomorrow? I can take you to The Pizza Palace, teach you to play pool, maybe poker..?"

Evelyn nodded happily, taking another bite of her hotdog. Adam turned to look at them, smiling happily. "Sounds good! Though, God knows Evey doesn't need another way to kick my a—" John gave Adam a Look, "er, kick my butt."

John looked at her, considering. She felt understandably smug and nodded happily. "It's true. Adam's the brain, I'm the jock. Course, I still do good in school an' stuff, but...sports and competitive stuff is more my thing than his."

She leaned into the hair ruffle as her dad reached for her again. Her eyes drifted closed for a moment, relishing the feeling. This. This was what she'd been missing. Her mom and Adam were brilliant, of course, but her dad, well...he was pretty spectacular, too.

[end]


	3. Chapter 3

**Save the Shark, Jump the Douchebag on the Skis**

 **Summary:** Sometimes, Fate opens a door, lends you a hand, in the least expected way. When Winchester luck is involved, it is hard to say whether or not this is a good thing.

 **Disclaimer:** Do not own Harry Potter characters/locations/etc. Neither do I own anything from Supernatural. I just wanted to try my hand at a slightly different cross-over fic with a slightly different take on both the "fem!HP" and "HP is [so and so's] relative" tropes.

 **Warnings:** Blood and gore, supernatural elements, Dean's attitude (and language, and sexual habits, and...you get the picture), outrageous abuse and discarding of canon, and unapologetic representations of female sexuality/sexual habits (no slut shaming, at all, ever).

 **Warning 2.0:** Author, like a magpie, has a tendency to get distracted with things bright and shiny. Or Real Life. Or other stories that are not cooperating at the moment. So, updating might be erratic. Fair warning.

 **Chapter Warning:** changing canonical "first beer" age from 15 to 16...for reasons. That also, coincidentally, pushes other events back a bit. Whether I off John or not (the magic 8 balls says "Things Do Not Look Promising"), I wanted him to at least be around for his youngest kids' "Sweet 16." So there.

…

"Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along"-Terry Pratchett

…

 **Timey-Wimey Bullsh*t, But Without the Friggin' Blue Box**

John cursed under his breath, checking his watch for what felt the millionth time. He was going to make it on time, even if he had to run the slow ass bastard in front of him off the side of the road with his goddamn truck. Anxious fingers tapped on the leather of his steering wheel, and he huffed as—at long last—the little old man going 14 in a 55 MPH zone turned off onto a side street.

He let out a gusty sigh and gunned it. The glowing yellow numbers of his dashboard clock seemed to mock him as it got closer and closer to time. The phone sitting on his dashboard vibrated, and he snatched it up to check the caller ID. "Terrible Twosome" flashed across the screen, and he smirked as he picked up the call, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder.

"Adam."

" _Guess again._ " The high, smooth drawl of his only girl echoed down the line.

"Evelyn."

" _Good guess._ "

John laughed.

" _Soooo, you coming today, or what? I know you have work, and everything..."_

His lips pressed together to fight back a bittersweet laugh. Gods, if Adam was like Sam, then Evelyn was every inch Dean, with the 'Devil May Care' attitude. Just like Dean, he knew his girl cared about his reply more than she'd ever let on.

"It's your birthday, of course I'm coming."

" _Oh, cool. Sweet. We still going to the Pizza Palace, then?_ "

"That was the plan."

" _Awesome. So...see you when you can get here, I guess...bye, dad. Love you._ "

He swallowed, hard. It was amazing how those two words could feel like the best thing in the world and a gigantic blow to the chest at the same time. "Love you too, kid. Love to your brother and your mom. See you soon."

" _Yeah. See ya_."

The line clicked, and John absently hung up, tossing the phone onto the seat. His booted foot pressed down on the gas a little harder, keeping an eye out for speed traps. After so many missed opportunities over the years, he was not going to disappoint his youngest kids today, not this time.

As it was, he'd barely managed a second trip after that first one, and that was, what, almost four years ago? He was taking his kids for pizza, and he was buying them their first beer. He'd be damned if anything was going to stop him.

. . .

Evey leaned over the pool table, eyes narrowed as she lined up her shot. Adam was snickering at her, quietly mocking the sight of her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she focuses. He could laugh it up all he wanted. He wouldn't be laughing in a minute, when she finished kicking his ass. A smooth, quiet slide of the cue and the clack of pool balls. Her last ball, and...yeah, the 8 ball were sunk into the pockets. Adam stopped laughing abruptly as she rose to her feet with a bounce.

"Pay up, loser." She lifted her chilled beer glass to her lips with a smile as her brother moaned in despair. Her dad, leaning against the wall watching them, shot her a proud grin. She bounced over to his side as he turned to make another tick mark under her name on the chalk board.

"That makes three for me and...oh, look at that, zero wins for you."

"Yeah, yeah." Adam slapped the slightly wrinkled ten into her palm, and she crowed happily as she tucked it away into her pocket.

"I still say you cheated."

"...and I say you're a sore loser. 'Sides, how would I cheat at pool? Poker, I get, but _pool_?"

"So you admit you cheat at poker."

Evelyn beamed beautifully at her brother, smiling wider as her father laughed in the background. "I admit nothing."

"I am totally taking your non-admittance as an admittance, just so you know."

"What? How does _that_ make any sense?"

"It makes sense because I know you well enough to know you're a cheater."

"Like I really need to cheat to beat you at pool...or at poker...or at darts...shall I go on?"

Adam snorted, sipping at his own beer and pouting. Evelyn sighed, slumping over to her twin and giving him her saddest, most pitiful puppy eyes. "Fine, I'm sorry, OK. I'll let you beat me at something at the arcade?"

Blue eyes rolled, locking with hers in a droll stare. "Letting yourself lose is still cheating, Evey."

"Yeah, well, it's better than nothing, right?"

John snorted and Evelyn shot him another happy look. Gods but she'd missed him. It wasn't that she didn't understand that his job made it hard to travel, because she did. There wasn't much call for a traveling mechanic, and most shops were probably not well-staffed enough to let their lead guys go off very often. She got that, she did. Still...the four years between visits had been a long four years.

Sure, she'd caught a little league game or two with Adam, but it wasn't the same as making the trip out to see the Twins play. Also, school had been a thing that happened. It wasn't boring, really, but neither was it exciting enough to write home...well, write her dad about. She went to her classes, chatted with a few people, did her homework, and turned it in. Rinse, repeat...five days a week, 18 weeks a year.

If she ditched Biology a few times this last year to make out with a Senior Varsity lacrosse player or two, that was her business, and like hell was that something she was mentioning to her dad or brother. Like, ever. She could handle herself, and often did, but that didn't mean her brother or her dad wouldn't have a thing or two to say about her making out with a testosterone-laden 18 year old (or two).

She took another sip of her beer. Adam let out a burp, smirking as she nudged him in the side (she didn't care about the burp so much as the smell...Christ, beer burps were _foul_ ). "So, when do you have to head back?"

Their dad frowned, running a hand through his hair. He looked tired and stressed, and if Evey didn't know he'd just wave off whatever was bothering him, she'd ask about it. As it was, she slipped next to him and leaned into his side in a quick hug.

"I can stay the night, but I have to be on the road by tomorrow morning, early."

"How early is 'early'?"

"No later than 7, probably."

Evey smiled. "Well, doofus and I," said doofus (a.k.a. her dork-twin) pinched her hip for the slight, which she swatted him for, "have to be up at 6:30 for school. Maybe we can get a bite at the diner and then catch a ride to school with you?"

Her dad smiled, looking pleased. "Sounds like a plan. How bout it, Adam?"

"I'm game, as long as Princess can drag her lazy ass out of bed on time."

"Like I'm the one who takes forever in the bathroom fixing his hair."

"No, but at least I know that you're supposed to wake up when an alarm clock goes off, not toss it at the wall."

Evey glared mockingly at her brother as she finished her beer. "Just for that, I'm so not letting you win when we play Mortal Combat."

"Oh, come _on._ " Their dad's laughter followed them as they headed over to the tiny arcade tucked in the back of the pizzeria.

. . .

John felt his face split into a grin as he watched his sleepy eyed twins dig into their breakfasts. Adam, just like Sam at his age, picked at his food, taking slow, small bites between sips of coffee. Evey, in a very Dean move, dove right in. She looked at the finicky eating habits of her peers and scoffed, loudly, taking unashamedly giant bites of her waffles. Luckily, she was less prone towards talking with her mouth full than her oldest brother, but she nonetheless ate with a very...Dean-ish enthusiasm. Waffles, bacon, coffee...she enjoyed every bit of it with no thought to refinement.

His heart ached. In another time, another place, he'd want nothing more than his first kids...his and Mary's sons...to meet their brother and sister. Adam would latch onto the academic Sam, and Evey...well, she'd either get a kick out of Dean or kick Dean. Either was likely with his girl. He smiled sadly into his coffee. It hurt to think about the fact that this may be the last time he'd see Adam and Evey, but if it meant they were safe, he'd take that hit. He'd hate to hurt them, but he'd rather they live hating him than die loving him.

"You gonna eat that?"

John looked up, meeting the bright gaze of his daughter, glancing down at his lone piece of bacon, cooling next to the remnant of soggy home fries. "Go for it, kid."

"Thanks." A smile twitched at his lips as Evey happy munched on the crunchy bacon, humming under her breath. Gods, but he loved her...loved both of them. He wanted to hope that he'd be back some day, see them again, but would allow himself this moment...just in case.

When the time finally came to pay and go, he all but dragged his feet. It seemed too soon to say good bye, now that it was time to say the words, so he didn't. Instead, he held his youngest boy and not-so-little girl in a longer-than-usual hug, pressed kisses to their foreheads, and watched them walk up the steps to their school with somber eyes.

He pressed his lips flat and tight, drumming the steering wheel once again. This time, it wasn't in excitement, but a sort of restless agitation. His phone vibrated again. He didn't even need to look to see that it was Dean calling. Sure, he felt bad for ignoring his calls all the time, staying away while bad, terrible, things went down with his boys, but...it was for the best. Dean could handle himself and Sam...he'd been doing it for years...and his first priority in this life, in this job, was finding that demon and ending it, before it could do to others what it did to Mary.

Still...signs were cropping up more and more, and he'd heard whispers of the Colt surfacing again. Maybe it was time to track down his boys, catch up on what they'd been up to...

. . .

Evey leaned back to stretch across a low wall, staring up at the clouds. "You think we'll see him again before we graduate?"

She felt more than saw Adam shrug, pressed against her side as he was. "Dunno. Maybe? I mean, it took him four years to make it back out here. Going by that record, we'll be twenty, or nearly that, before we hear from him again."

Evey hummed unhappily under her breath. Adam sighed, leaning back to turn his face towards the sky. "I don't know why this gets to you so bad."

"He's our dad, stupid."

"Yeah, I get that, but...it's not like he can really afford to be around."

"He's busy."

"I know, but..."

"But nothing. Being busy doesn't mean he doesn't love us, jackass."

"Yeah, I get that. That's not what I'm saying."

Evey sat up, pinning her twin with a heavy stare. "What _are_ you saying, then?"

"I'm saying...I'm saying, whether he loves us or not—and yes, I know he does, so shut up for a minute—you shouldn't let him not being around get you like this. We're his kids, but we weren't exactly something he planned. You gotta get used to not hearing from him for a while."

"I am used to it."

"Are you, cause last I checked, you're the one who sends him blocks of texts every other week then quietly falls apart when he doesn't reply."

Evey bit her lip, refusing to meet her twin's stare. Adam leaned into her side, tucking his chin over her shoulder, like the tall jerk he was. "I'm not saying not to write him, or that we don't love him, or that he doesn't love us, just...he has another life away from us, from this. We can't expect him to turn around and be super dad, just because we wish he would."

"...yeah, I know it."

She frowned, ignoring the sting in her eyes as Adam wrapped his arms around her shoulder, tugging her closer.

Evey knew what Adam was saying was true, but that didn't mean she had to be happy about it. In fact, she'd probably be quietly, stubbornly unhappy about it until she found a way to lift herself from her funk.

"Yo, EVES!" Blue eyes lifted to meet the warm hazel of Derek Grayson-Hayes, the newest on the list of boys she'd let drag her under the bleachers. Well, he may not be her first choice of "pick me up," but he'd damn sure do in a pinch. Besides, it wasn't as if she really needed Biology for anything, anyway.

. . .

John sniffled, shuffling slowly down the depressing hospital hallway. He knew what he had to do, and he was glad to do it for his son—any of his kids, really—but it still hurt to leave them. His hand tightened around the handle of the colt, fingers spasming. God, but had it really come to this? Was he already at the end of the line?

He leaned against the wall, exhausted. His hands fumbled as he pulled out his phone and stared at it for a moment. John let another few tears spill down his cheeks as he scrolled through his phone, seeing another three messages waiting from him from "Terrible Twosome"—probably from Evey, with a line or two from Adam, making fun of his sister's 'motor mouth.'

A quick inhale, and a shakey sigh...his fingers worked quickly but awkwardly as tapped out a message for his two youngest:

"Glad we got to spend your birthday together. Business is going to keep me a way for a long while. Remember I love you. XOXO -John"

The phone beeped as the message went through. Looking down at the screen for a minute, he sadly fiddled with the phone til "Select: ALL" was highlighted, then quickly hit "DELETE ALL MESSAGES" before he could change his mind. Another tear spilled down his cheek as the screen, once filled with rambling, love-filled messages from his kids, went blank. John quietly turned off his phone, tucking it away in his pocket.

His feet shuffled on the tile as he half walked, half limped into the abandoned hospital room, where the Yellow Eyed Bastard was waiting for him. Slowly, he reached out and settled the gun the bedside tray. It looked strange just...laying there: a battered handle, stained with old blood, a tarnished metal barrel, polished not with a rag, but thousands of greasy fingers over the years. It was everything ugly and bloody and violent set against the dull, beige hospital-grade plastic of the little bedside tray.

A sigh, heavy with everything not yet said (to his kids— _all_ his kids) and not yet done (no more baseball games, or family poker nights, or time spent with his two oldest, making things right) forced its way up his throat, making his shoulders heave and sag, his injured arm twinging at the jarring movement.

"...OK..."

John only hoped he didn't sound as defeated as he felt. He wished this didn't have to be the end, but couldn't choose a better way to die then to die in place of his kid.

. . .

Evey shook her phone, staring down at it with a scowl. GoddamnSonuvabitchPieceAShit. It wasn't that crappy service was so unusual in a small town, but she really, really fucking wished that her phone didn't drop calls and delete messages every goddamn time it went on the fritz. She'd heard it vibrate with a message not ten damn minutes before it croaked, but she'd probably never figure out who it was from, now.

It was probably Derek, again. She would have liked it to have been from her dad, but probably wasn't. He wasn't really the texting type, and he had just left, less than a month ago. There was no reason he'd be checking in on them again so soon.

"Hey, EVES!"

She shoved her phone back into her bag, trying her damnedest not to roll her eyes. Speak of the devil...

"Derek. Hey."

"Hey. So, uh, I got a free period after break if you want to meet me by the lacrosse field..."

Evey sighed. Thinking about that missed message was making her miss her dad, again. She considered her...well, her not-a-boyfriend briefly, and shrugged. Adam would give her shit for it later, she was sure, but Study Hall could stand to miss her glorious presence for one afternoon.

"Sure. See you then."

She made sure to pinch Derek's ass as he passed him, smirking over her shoulder at the Senior as he yelped in surprise. By the time she made it to class, she'd all but forgotten about her missed message.

[end]


	4. Chapter 4

**Save the Shark, Jump the Douchebag on the Skis**

 **Summary:** Sometimes, Fate opens a door, lends you a hand, in the least expected way. When Winchester luck is involved, it is hard to say whether or not this is a good thing.

 **Disclaimer:** Do not own Harry Potter characters/locations/etc. Neither do I own anything from Supernatural. I just wanted to try my hand at a slightly different cross-over fic with a slightly different take on both the "fem!HP" and "HP is [so and so's] relative" tropes.

 **Warnings:** Blood and gore, supernatural elements, Dean's attitude (and language, and sexual habits, and...you get the picture), outrageous abuse and discarding of canon, and unapologetic representations of female sexuality/sexual habits (no slut shaming, at all, ever).

 **Warning 2.0:** Author, like a magpie, has a tendency to get distracted with things bright and shiny. Or Real Life. Or other stories that are not cooperating at the moment. So, updating might be erratic. Fair warning.

 **Chapter Warning:** A bit of monster shenanigans, everyone's a potty mouth, a bit of non-explicit sexual content later in the chapter (Evey is 19, thus OF AGE, thus can do whatever she damn well pleases), and a bit of Sam and Dean Fucking Winchester being Sam and Dean Fucking Winchester.

Also, I realized I goofed with the age John took them to their first game (14 show canon, 12 in this story), but...DOAN CURR. Also DUNN CURR about getting first meeting bits between the twins and Sam and Dean perfectly right, seeing as I will be starting to deviate from the canon (even) more, from this point on.

…

"Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along"-Terry Pratchett

…

 **I Put A Spell On You (and Now You're F*cked)**

The was a common misconception amongst magic users who chose to live in the Wizarding communities, and those who choose to live amongst muggles, Kate found. For the most part, the former thought the latter were a bunch of self-punishing twats at best, and magic-hating, at worst. What these wizards failed to understand—what James had failed to understand all those years ago—that giving up magic and giving up living in magical society were not the same thing.

Yes, Kate lived amongst the muggles, held down a muggle job, made muggle friends, raised her muggle (or mostly muggle) children, but that didn't mean she had discarded her magic in its entirety. Far from it. What she had discarded were the ridiculous, and often contradictory, attitudes and expectations of magical society.

On the one hand, she was magically gifted, thus had been expected to go to a magical school, settle down with a magical spouse and have magical children, while working a magical job. On the other hand, she was a first generation...a muggle born, a "mudblood"...so she had also been expected to do all those things magicals were expected to do, even as she was spat on and scorned for doing them. They both wanted her to live a life that perpetuated magic, all the while pointing fingers and suspecting that she had somehow "stolen" hers from the squibs of the "more deserving" families. It was bullshit, and she had never been one to suffer bullshit.

All this to say, despite appearances, Kate Milligan was far from the typical defenseless muggle. She may have chosen to live away from magical society, but that didn't mean she hadn't used every trick she knew and warded her home—as well as the apartments and dorm rooms of her children—to the teeth. Quite the contrary. So, when trouble came calling, as it had wont to do, she was ready for it.

Ready, and not about to go down without a damn good fight.

It was less a home invasion than a particularly vicious game of cat and mouse. With her house so heavily warded, the intruders, whatever they were, were forced to push and prod at the wards, test its weak spots even as Kate methodically used every tracking spell she knew to hunt them down and end them. Of course, she'd never really managed to get any training in the capture and containment of ghosts, ghouls, and other various phantasmagoria before everything that went down in England, well, went down, but that didn't mean she couldn't improvise.

" _...Kaaaate. Kate!"_

She whipped around, blonde hair flying as she aimed her wand into the darkness of the hall. She was getting tired of the taunting bullshit, and was half a second from just blasting shit til she hit something. It was a strangely James response, but she wasn't here to play with these things. She wanted them gone before they thought to go after her kids.

" _...over here, Kate!_ "

"This is getting old. I know you got through my wards, so either show yourselves or shut the fuck up."

The beings laughed, slipping out of the shadows...one in front of her, down the hall, and one slipping out of the kitchen. Her eyes widened, taking in the figures of Evey's coworker, Frank, from the mechanic's shop and Adam's ex-girlfriend, April, from University. Fuck.

She would have liked to assume she was just dealing with a couple of fucked up kids, but there was something too feral, too monstrous for that to be the case. "What the hell are you?"

"Can't you guess, little witch?"

Double fuck. "Probably, but you two shit stains are frankly not worth the time it'll take to kill you, so why don't you just tell me or get on with it."

Frank snarled, his teeth bloody and flecked with chunks of what looked like human flesh. Ugh. Ghouls, then, or something like it, probably. The eyes were all wrong for werewolves, and there was no way in hell a vampire would have made it through the initial wards without a bit more damage than these two beasts had sustained.

"What do you want?"

"You and your fucking brats dead, for a start."

"Not gonna happen."

April smiled. "I guess we'll see, won't we."

Kate snarled, wand brandished like the deadly fucking weapon it had every potential to be. "Yeah, we fucking will see."

The monsters sprung, and Kate lashed out with her magic.

. . .

Evey and...whoever the guy was, again...were well on their way to riding out a magnificent finish, thanks, in no small part, to her many and varied talents. Of course, it would have been even more magnificent...literally fucking fantastic, in fact...if her goddamn cell phone would stop buzzing away every three minutes. She'd thought turning off the ringer would be enough, but the sound of the vibration against the wood of her side dresser was grating on her ears and killing the mood every time it buzzed across the hard surface.

 _Bzzzt. Bzzzt._

…

 _Bzzzt. Bzzzt._

…

 _Bzzzt. Bzzzt._

"Toss the fucker on the floor, would you? It's...distracting." Evey worked her hips harder, doing her damnedest to tune out the buzz-killing little bastard lighting up with missed call after missed call.

The brunette below her moaned, turning his pretty face to stare dolefully at the little gadget from hell ruining the moment. He sighed, reluctantly removing one of the hands that had been cupping her breasts and quickly tossed her phone on their pile of clothes. Task accomplished, he went right back to cupping her breast, teasing her nipple with a calloused thumb. The phone continued to buzz, but the clothes muffled it just enough to no longer be a distraction.

"Much better... _god_." Warm hands slid down to her hips, holding them in place as he lifted his to meet the movements of her own.

Maybe she should remember to get this one's name. She may not be the relationship sort, but she knew a good thing when she fucking felt it, and this guy...well, he felt like he could be a very, very good thing.

…

 _Bzzzt. Bzzzt._

Evey tossed a glare at her little phone. "No. Fuck that. You don't get to ruin this."

She moved her hips, writing and twisting on her lover's lap, racing to the finish before the little twat-blocker could spoil the moment. Al-most... _There_.

 _Bzzzt. Bzzzt._

" _Fuckinggoddamnit._ "

 _Bzzzt. Bzzzt._

Her heart still racing, Evey sat back on her lover's hips for a moment to catch her breath. She swatted at the hands still playing with her nipples, the pulling less on the sexy side and more on the uncomfortable side, now that all was said and done.

 _Bzzzt. Bzzzt._

She stared at her phone, happily buzzing away on a mixed pile of jeans and underwear. A sweaty lock of blonde fell into her face and she pushed it back over her shoulders. It clung to her sweat slicked back and she grimaced. She needed a fucking shower...badly.

"I'm gonna answer that and use your bathroom."

"Right. Towels 're on the rack. Take your time." Pretty boy reclined on his sheets, looking as tired and sated as she felt.

Evey grimaced, flexing her sore legs slowly as she grabbed her phone and slowly stumbled her way to the closet sized bathroom. The shower was a claustrophobe's worst nightmare, all narrow, tiled walls and heavy shower curtain, with a giant metal shower handle that looked like it had come out of a cheap motel from the 1980s. The pipes squeaked, high and shrill, with the change in pressure, the frigid water sputtering and spitting while the pressure adjusted. Evey winced.

She flipped her phone open as she waited for the water to heat up. 25 fucking missed calls from Adam. What the actual fuck.

Steam slowly began to fill the room, and she hit the call button, switching it over to speakerphone and busting up the volume as she stepped into the shower.

" _Hello, Evey?_ "

She yanked the curtain to the side, just enough so she could talk and shower at the same time. "Yeah, it's me. What's the emergency?"

" _It's mom._ "

"What about mom?"

" _She's missing._ "

Evey sputtered, swiping at the suds falling into her eyes. "...and you didn't fucking tell me?"

" _I was going to, as soon as I got a hold of John, but..._ "

"but _what_ , Adam?"

" _The guy who answered his phone, he said...he said dad died._ "

"Bullshit!"

" _That's just what he said, Evey. I'm going to meet them at the diner in a bit, see if I can figure out what happened with dad._ "

She took a deep, shuddering breath, sputtering as she inhaled a bit of the thick steam from the shower. "I'm coming with you."

" _...what..?_ "

"I'm coming with you, Adam."

Her brother sighed, sounding as tired as she felt. " _Yeah, alright. Can you pick me up on your way? The car's been on the fritz again..._ "

Evey rolled her eyes. "No, we'll take your car and my tools. If you won't take that piece of shit in for a check up, I'll do it myself in the goddamn parking lot while we wait."

A choked laugh echoed down the line. " _Alright, your funeral. When can you get here?_ "

Evey yanked on the handle, shutting the water off with a screech. "Give me time to get dressed and grab my tools. Let's say...half hour?"

" _Should be fine. We're supposed to meet with the guys dad knew in about an hour and a half._ "

"Perfect. It'll give me time to work on your precious piece of shit while we wait."

" _Right. See ya soon, Evey_."

"See ya."

Evey snatched up her phone, barely thinking to wrap a towel around herself as she powered out of the bathroom and snatched up her clothes. Pretty boy was snoring away, starting to smell a little ripe as he stewed in his own juices (and hers). OK, so, maybe she wouldn't ask for his number. Good sex was fine, but a guy that could happily sleep in his own funk, smack dab in the middle of "the wet spot" was not someone she wanted to spend any extended time around. Too bad, cause he had been one of the better ones.

Three failed attempts to shove on her shoes, and she snatched them up with a curse and walked out barefoot. She didn't have time to be messing around with that shit. She still needed to stop by her place for clean clothes and her tools and make it out to Adam's in time to meet up with the asshole who'd had the nerve to tell Adam that their dad was dead over the goddamn phone.

The car pulled to a stop with a worrying wheeze and rattle of the engine. Maybe she'd been wrong. The car wasn't a piece of shit, it was worst than that. It was fucking devil-spawned shit stain that gave all cars a bad name. Evey tossed a Look at her twin, who pointedly didn't meet her gaze.

"Just so you know, this car should be condemned."

"I'm not condemning the car, Evey."

"Fine, but you owe me for wasting my fucking time on something that's going to kick it in a month."

"Yeah, I get it. I owe you."

"Good. Now, go see if our little guests are waiting inside. I just want to take a peek while the engine cools."

"I'll save you a seat."

"...screw the seat, get me a burger, yeah?"

Adam waved her off with a laugh, slumping into the diner with that fucking hangdog look of his. Christ.

Evey was bent over the hood, tool box open at her feet and grease smeared up to her elbow when a man, face like a storm cloud, stomped out. He was all stubble and attitude, a real knock-off James Dean, but with blonde spiky hair. She saw him slow to a near stop as he reached her, still bent over Adam's car, and frowned.

"Keep walking, Princess."

He sputtered, flushing at being caught staring, and she turned to meet his eyes. A blonde brow arched over the side eye she shot at him. "I don't need your help, so you can stop staring at my ass and keep walking."

He shrugged, sheepish, and slunk back toward the diner, slipping inside after one more lingering look. Evey laughed, wiping the grease off her hands and putting away her tools. She threw one last glance under the hood, winced, and slammed it shut. She'd done all she could without a full set up at her disposal. Evey dropped her tools in Adam's trunk and slipped inside the diner, heading straight for the table, where she eyed the beautiful fucking burger sitting in front of an empty space.

She slipped into the spot next to Adam, ignoring the fact that "Princess" was giving her an unimpressed look to go along with the Hang Dog Confusion his gigantic side kick was shooting her way.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, well...you fix my piece of shit car for free, it's the least I can do, right?"

"Damn straight."

Princess cleared his throat and Evey blinked placidly, taking another mouthful of her burger. "We're kind of in the middle of something right now, so you can come back and play with your boyfriend later. Alright, sweetheart?"

She swallowed carefully as Adam sputtered, face wrinkled in disgust. "First of all, fuck you, asshole, who asked you? Second of all, I'm his goddamn sister, so _ew_."

Gigantor sat back in his seat, eyes darting between she and Adam, taking in their similar features, their eyes. Sure, Adam's hair was more mousy brown than ash blonde now, but they still looked enough alike that anyone with eyes should be able to see they were related. "...sister?"

"Yeah, _sister_. You know what a sister is, don't you, Bigfoot?"

Adam pinched her in the side, and she elbowed him in the ribs.

"That fucking hurt, Evey."

"Well, then you shouldn't pinch me, jackass."

"Brat."

"Jerk-face."

Princess' face was tight, angry, as his eyes darted between she and Adam. "So, what, John went and had _two_ kids he never mentioned?"

Evelyn felt a stab of hurt at the 'never mentioned' bit, but kept it together enough to answer. "It was a once-in-a-lifetime two for one discount."

"A...what?" Evey rolled her eyes. Honestly, she wasn't sure if the guy was being thick on purpose or just thick, full stop.

"We're twins."

" _Twins_."

"Yes, _twins_. Fraternal twins. It happens."

"Bullshit. This...this whole thing...it's bullshit." Adam flinched back from Princess' outburst, and Evey felt her eyes narrow on the asshole. Honestly, she was about sixty seconds away from giving him a swift kick to the balls.

"Yeah, and who the fuck are you to say so?"

"I...we...Sam and I, _we_ are John Winchester's sons. _We_ are."

Evey felt the breath leave her, her eyes taking in the two men across from her. Well, she'd be god damned. Adam, the sap, went all doe eyed and seemed about ready to leap across the table and tackle Gigantor in a hug. "Brothers? We have...brothers?"

"No, you don't have brothers, because I don't believe a god damn word you're saying!"

She smirked at him, and she could tell by Adam's grimace that it wasn't a pleasant expression. "Admit it, you're just skeeved out because you're the dirty old man who was perving on his sister."

Gigantor tossed Princess a look as the man flushed red, all the way up his neck and across his forehead. "That has nothing to do with it!"

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really, because you're both friggin _lying_!"

Evey took in the flushed face, the unhinged expression, and felt her rattled nerves calm. "Ten bucks says you're wrong."

"Yeah, and how you gonna prove me wrong?"

Blue eyes met light green in a stare down. Slowly, Evey's lips stretched into a smile.

[end]


	5. Chapter 5

**Save the Shark, Jump the Douchebag on the Skis**

 **Summary:** Sometimes, Fate opens a door, lends you a hand, in the least expected way. When Winchester luck is involved, it is hard to say whether or not this is a good thing.

 **Disclaimer:** Do not own Harry Potter characters/locations/etc. Neither do I own anything from Supernatural. I just wanted to try my hand at a slightly different cross-over fic with a slightly different take on both the "fem!HP" and "HP is [so and so's] relative" tropes.

 **Warnings:** Blood and gore, supernatural elements, Dean's attitude (and language, and sexual habits, and...you get the picture), outrageous abuse and discarding of canon, and unapologetic representations of female sexuality/sexual habits (no slut shaming, at all, ever).

 **Warning 2.0:** Author, like a magpie, has a tendency to get distracted with things bright and shiny. Or Real Life. Or other stories that are not cooperating at the moment. So, updating might be erratic. Fair warning.

 **Chapter Warning:** LOTS of canon divergence, Sammy is one cool mo-fo in the face of emotional upheavals, and MAYBE an answer to the "canon or not canon" question in regards to the fate of the Milligans (Kate, Adam and Evey). Also, gore...a bit more than I usually write, so there's...that. Also Also...F bombs galore. I kind of feel like Oprah: "and YOU get an F bomb, and YOU get an F bomb, and YOU...!"

…

"Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along"-Terry Pratchett

…

 **Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon OR Don't Take Mess With a Milligan. Like, Ever.**

In a lot of ways, Blood Wards functioned in a way not dissimilar to that of the automated High Security Systems in development for the muggle Governmental Departments across the globe. They detected intrusion and sent out an alarm after said intrusion was detected. So, in this sense at least, the Blood Wards around the Milligan home acted like any other Security System, muggle and magical alike.

However, blood, especially willingly given blood, had made them... _more_. It was the real game changer, what separated both High Tech muggle systems and even the Standard or Localized Wards from what Kate had at her disposal. Muggle systems could send an alert to an intrusion, Standard and Localized Wards could react to one, but Blood Wards could take action.

All that was needed was for the fail safe to be tripped, as it has been, the minute the beast disguised as April drew first blood. It was for this reason that Kate, battered and bleeding out from the open wound in her leg where not-April had taken a bite out of her, was smiling with a grim sense of satisfaction. She may very well die here, but her unwanted guests would not escape unscathed. She had made sure of that, that any harm visited upon her and hers was revisited upon the perpetrator ten-fold.

"AHHHHHHHH! FUCK! WHY THE HELL ISN'T IT WORKING?!"

Kate's lips twitched as not-April, her body a ravaged lump of flesh, stuck half way between her April form and her stolen Kate form, collapsed onto the ground. Sweat slicked hair stuck to a bruised and misshapen bare spine, her clothes all but shredded from the unnatural bulging, rippling mutation as the magic in Kate's blood fought against the creature trying to draw upon it to steal Kate's shape.

A laugh bubbled up past her abused vocal cords, and not-April tossed her a venomous glare. "Careful, bitch. I'm not against ripping your guts out and making you watch me eat them."

"...you can't very well kill her til you find out why it's not working, 'April.' We need her if we want to get a hold of the Winchesters..."

Not-April tossed Not-Frank a disgusted glare, looking furious and envious at his unmarred form.

"Shut up...you don't know what this feels like, like...it's fucking melting my insides."

Not-Frank frowned, his golden, pretty face twisted in concern for his...sister? Companion? "Shhh, I know...but you won't make it better by killing her, idiot." Now, can I trust you to behave while I go take care of my disguise?

Disguise..? No. Please, no...please don't let him go after Adam...

"I'll try, but I make no fucking promises."

Not-Frank sighed, but shrugged. He, like Kate, seemed to know that was as much of a concession as he was going to get. "Fine, but if you kill her, there's no telling if we'll be able to fix you. Remember that."

Kate watched the creature slowly walk out of her little make-shift prison, heart beating wildly against her chest. Adam. Evey. Oh, god. She took a deep breath. She just had to remember. Her eyes darted to the creature writing and cursing on the ground.

The smile slowly returned to Kate's face. She just had to remember...remember that with every act committed against her, the wards protecting her children grew stronger. They'd been strong before, but now...now Not-Frank would be lucky to survive laying a finger on them, either of them.

"You have a nasty little mouth on you, don't you? I'm honestly not surprised you live in the gutter with the way you act."

Not-April bared a mouthful of bloody teeth at her, hissing like a feral cat. A cry ripped past the creature's mouth, her twisted body rippling as Kate's magic used the distraction to violently shift the creature back to April's form. She—it—panted like a dog, sweat dripping down her forehead, as she tried to shift back. After a moment, she slammed her fists against the ground, furious at her failure.

"HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS?"

"Doing what, exactly?"

"YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU STUPID WITCH-BITCH!"

"Now, that's just rude."

"TELL. ME. HOW."

Kate felt her smile slowly spread wider, every inch the Cheshire Smile. "Now why would I do that? You look like you're having so much fun."

Searing, hot agony shot through her stomach, and she choked, blood bubbling up from between her lips. Watery blue eyes looked down. Not-April's arm was shoved through her stomach to her elbow, and Kate winced at the odd, throbbing pain of the creature gently grasping at her intestines.

"...all it would take is a quick tug and you'd be finished, so if you want to live, you best tell me...What. Did. You. Do?"

Blood spilled down Kate's chin, dripping down her neck in tiny rivers. Her blood-slicked smiled flickered briefly as she locked agonized blue with the feral, glowing eyes of her killer. "I killed you, asshole."

There was a terrible, agonizing wrench from deep inside her—hot, and terrible, and final—and everything faded to black.

. . .

Evey watched Princess'... _Dean's_ jaw clench and spasm, a million and one emotions flickering through his eyes. The slow death of denial, sadness, jealousy, resignation. Her eyes followed his gaze to the photo in Gigant— _Sam's_ hands. It wasn't anything special, per se, just a shot her—well, her and Adam's mom had taken before their first baseball game. Adam, the dork, was cheesing up at the camera, his hair a thatch of ashy blonde and his eyes looking too big for his face. Evey's hair had been pulled into two ridiculously messy pig tails, and her matching blue eyes were locked onto her dad's smiling face as she grinned.

"He...he took you to a baseball game?"

"Yeah...when we were twelve. We saw the Twins play, and he bought us hotdogs. Adam ate about six, and spent half the ride home gassing us out of the car."

Her brother winced, but didn't deny it. He didn't look it, but he could be a giant gas bag under the right (well, wrong) conditions. Evey could Sam's lips twitch in amusement, and figured there must be a joke in there somewhere that she wasn't getting.

Dean turned his back, all but stomping across the room to hastily snatch up a picture of their parents that she'd had them pose for when the man had passed through for their sixteenth.

"Watch it!"

Dean's eyes flickered to hers briefly before frowning down at the picture. He seemed to take in every inch of their dad's face. "...when was this taken?"

"2006."

Dean's eyes flickered to meet Adam's. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but Adam was an open book to her. She could tell he was just as curious about the meaning behind that Look.

"...when in 2006?"

"Our birthday, September 29th. Dad showed up, bought us beer at Pizza Palace. Evey kicked my ass at pool, won, like, fifty bucks off me."

"Sixty, actually...don't forget I kicked your ass in the Arcade, too."

"Whatever, it was still all my birthday money."

Evey caught Adam's eyes as their older brothers exchanged another one of those Looks, this one heavy as fuck, and sad, and so angry. Dean looked away from Sam first, cleared his throat, and set the photo down. When he turned to look at them, his face was all business. "So. Uh, you said something about your mom being missing?"

The breath left her in a whoosh. She leaned back in the wall, feeling like she was going to collapse. She'd been trying not to think about that, trying to focus on proving that she and Adam were who they said they are. It felt like a punch in the chest to have to think...really think...about the fact that their mom being missing.

"Uh, yeah. She...she works a lot of crap hours at the hospital, but she's really active, ya know? Does a lot of stuff in the community, likes to keep in touch with us, so it was weird when she didn't call."

Evey slipped closer to Adam's side, leaning into him and taking his shaking hand into hers. "I'm on break from the University and I have a place in town, so I stopped by to see what was up, if she was sick, and...her room. Her room was trashed, and there was _blood_...the police, they said they're looking for her, but can't find any clues about who took her, or why, or even that she left the house. I just..."

Her eyes clenched shut and she pressed her face into her brother's shoulder. She squeezed his hand and felt his fingers trembled as he squeezed back. "...I just. I called dad, because I didn't know who else to call, and now...now I don't know what to do. She our mom, and I don't know how to help her."

Dean's voice was low and gruff as he spoke. Evey didn't have to look at him to know he was feeling awkward as hell about this whole thing. Considering he'd just been hit with a blow less than two hours ago, she wasn't surprised. As heavy as things were with her mom missing, she couldn't help but feel slightly weird about putting all this stuff on the two older brothers who were all but strangers to she and Adam.

"We...Sam and I...we'd like to take a look around the room, if you don't mind. You could say we're kind of experts."

Evey peeked up at Dean, trading a quick glance with Adam. "...experts at finding shit the cops can't? I thought you guys were mechanics, like dad...isn't that what you told Adam?"

Sam shifted, looking awkward as hell, but didn't say anything. "I'm guessing that was a load of shit, then, unless there is a need for mechanics that specialize in criminal investigation, or something."

Dean shuffled awkwardly, but still didn't say anything. Evey smiled weakly. "...that would be kind of cool, honestly. I'd sign up in a heart-beat. Fix junkers by day, fight crime by night...kind of like Batman, but less glamorous."

Sam's lips twitched, raising an eyebrow at her as she grinned like a fucking dork at the possibilities of building her own goddamn Batcar. Adam nudged her, shaking his head as if he had any room to be embarrassed about her geeky tendencies.

"You have to excuse her...she tried to get dad to help her build a Batcar when we were twelve. He said no, but she's never given up on the idea."

"What? It'd be fucking sweet, and you know it."

Dean shook his head, his lips twitching as he slowly mounted the stairs. Well, it wasn't great progress, but at least he wasn't looking at she and Adam like they'd killed his puppy anymore.

. . .

The carpet of the hotel room was dingy as fuck, and Evey absently wondered when it'd last been cleaned? Last month? A decade ago? Never? She could almost see in her minds eye the dried flakes of old semen and fossilized rat shit hiding between the funky fibers of the worn out shag carpeting. Slowly, he raised her feet to tuck beneath her on the tiny, barely cushioned chair tucked into the corner.

She...she just needed a goddamn minute. She'd known that things couldn't be good for her mom if she'd been missing for long enough for Adam to brave driving across two counties to check in on her in his unreliable junker. Still, Evey hadn't wanted to imagine that something really bad had happened to her. The look on Dean's face when he'd emerged from the ducts had quickly killed off any hope to the contrary.

Her mom was missing, and probably severely injured, if not dead. She jerked, her phone vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out, just staring at the screen for a moment before the name registered. Frank. What...why the fuck was Frank calling her?

"Hello?"

" _Hey, Evey._ "

"Uh...hey. What's up?"

" _Just calling to see if you want to meet up or something..._ "

What the actual fuck? She stared down at her phone in confusion. Sure, she'd worked with the guy for a while, but he wasn't the sort she hung out with, and the opposite could definitely be said, as well.

"Now's not really a good time."

" _Maybe tomorrow, then?_ "

"...don't you work tomorrow?"

" _Yes...no, that doesn't matter. Meet me?_ "

"I don't think so."

" _Why not? I just want to hang out!_ "

...whatever the fuck was going on with Frank, she didn't even want to know. Honestly, she wasn't the type to share and care with anyone outside of her close family, but she was in even less of a mood to deal with whatever that shit was about.

"I don't have time for this right now."

".. _bu_ —"

Evey hung up before he could say whatever the hell he was going to say. Adam met her eyes from where he was slouching on the edge of the hotel bed. "Everything alright?"

"Fuck if I know. Frank wanted to meet me and got really...angry when I wouldn't agree to meet up with him."

"That's weird."

"I know, right?"

She saw Sam and Dean trade considering looks between the two of them before turning to focus their attention on her. "This guy an ex or something?"

"Uh, no...not at all. We don't even usually talk, except when we share a shift at the garage."

"Huh. So, Frank been acting weird besides that? Disappearing for any length of time, acting out of character?"

Evey's gaze locked onto Sam's, barely stopping herself from voicing the _are you guys for real_ that was at the tip of her tongue. Her older brother's gaze was enough to convince her they weren't messing around.

"Uh...I haven't really seen him around for a few day before...well, before I found out mom had gone missing, and then there was the phone call thing, which you were obviously here for. Why?"

She was kind of getting sick of those knowing fucking Looks her older brothers kept on sharing, but figured she had zero room to talk, with how often she and Adam did their own silent communication thing. "What else can you tell me about Frank?"

. . .

The Milligan House hummed with power, nearly alive as the Blood Wards thrummed and pulsed, strengthened beyond reckoning by its Mistress' death. It lashed out at the Things that beat against its walls, ripping and tearing, seeming nearly sentient in its cruelty towards the intruders.

"What the fuck?! Why can't we get in?!"

"I _told_ you...I told you not to kill her."

"The bitch had it coming!"

"Yeah, well, the bitch obviously knew what she was doing, or we'd be able to get in!"

The walls seemed to ripple, shadows of things not visible to the eyes stretching down the walls, stretching farther than shadows were supposed to stretch, and where they touched, the Things burned. The Milligan House wasn't alive, no...it felt neither satisfaction nor compassion over the Things caught in its Offensive Wards. Since it did not live and could not feel, neither could it show mercy. It had no mercy to give to the destroyed husk of the female, all bubbling, burned skin over twisted muscle and bone, nor any to show the male, screaming as he was drawn and quartered as he was slowly dragged up the outside wall, shadows wrapped around wrists and ankles.

With a wrench, the male was pulled apart. The sound of rending flesh and snapping bone was horrendous, almost as much as his scream. Still, though, it lived...and so the house twisted and pulled at his destroyed torso til, with a tear of flesh and tendons, the head popped off and the body finally fell, limp.

Only the wrecked female was left, burning and screaming. "FUCKING BITCH. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE. FUCK YOU AND YOUR FUCKING MAGIC."

A slow, curling tendril of shadow wrapped around her leg, leaving burning welts where it touched, and she screamed. The House was not alive, but it could act, it could learn...and it was little work to rip the head off of the female, already destroyed beyond repair by its Mistress' magic.

The head hit the grass with a dull thunk, and the house fell silent.

. . .

Evey turned away, barely choking back the urge to hurl. By the sound of Adam gasping and choking, he'd lost that same battle, and in their mom's roses, too. For a moment, there was silence, save for her twin's sputtering. The smell of burned, dead things was heavy in the air, making it hard to fight back the urge to be sick like Adam had been.

Dean's voice was choked, and Evey threw him a glance over her shoulder. "Uh...well...damn."

"So, what, does that mean we have to find what did this?" Evey knew she probably looked as dismayed as Sam had sounded, but...fuck, she hoped not. She just wanted to get this over so she could find her mom (dead or alive), do what she had to do.

"Nah. Whatever did this, it wasn't just a freak after a random kill. It came after these two bastards specifically."

 _...what_?

"How could you possibly know that?"

"I know how to do research too, Sammy, come on! Grave robberies? Missing locals? How much you wanna bet it stops after this?"

"Yeah, but you don't _know_ —"

"I know that, but unless you've got some other lead to go on, this one's done."

"Dean..."

"Look, we'll stick around for a few days, see what happens, but my gut's telling me it's over.

Adam's voice was low and shaky, and he still sounded seconds away from spewing again. "...so, uh...you wanna tell me what you two do, again?"

It was inappropriate, but Evey felt a laugh bubble up her throat, and let it spill past her lips.

. . .

"...sure you two don't wanna come with? Plenty of room for you." Dean petted the Impala, the car still as beautiful as when Dad had shown up in it that first time all those years ago.

Adam looked torn, and Evey could honestly understand the feeling. Yeah, she wanted to go, but their mom deserved a fucking funeral. She didn't even want to think about how she'd suffered, what with the state they'd found her in.

"...I think...I think we need to take care of things with our mom, first."

Sam nodded, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. "Alright, well, we're only a call away if you need us."

Dean's jaw clenched and he hesitated before pulling Adam, then her, into a gruff hug. "What Sammy said. In fact...you call me whether you need us, or not, got it? I wanna hear from you two every two days, or I'm coming back and taking you with me, willing or not."

Evey saluted her stocky blonde brother sarcastically. "Sure thing, boss."

"You let us know when the funeral is, got it? If we can make it, we'll be here."

"Will do."

Adam shrugged tightly and nodded. "Yeah, we'll let you know."

Sam and Dean shuffled, looking painfully awkward for a moment, and Evey was struck by the notion that her older brothers weren't used these kinds of good-byes. She darted forward, pulling first Sam and then Dean into another hug, and then stepped back to settle by Adam's side.

"Go do what you do. We'll keep in touch."

The two eldest Winchesters nodded tightly and climbed into the Impala. With a growl of the old muscle car, they disappeared into the horizon.

[end]

Notes:

So, the death of the ghouls came out of nowhere, but I really didn't want to rehash canon, so there you are.

Not sure how I feel about this ending, but this is as good as it is going to get.


	6. Chapter 6

**Save the Shark, Jump the Douchebag on the Skis**

 **Summary:** Sometimes, Fate opens a door, lends you a hand, in the least expected way. When Winchester luck is involved, it is hard to say whether or not this is a good thing.

 **Disclaimer:** Do not own Harry Potter characters/locations/etc. Neither do I own anything from Supernatural. I just wanted to try my hand at a slightly different cross-over fic with a slightly different take on both the "fem!HP" and "HP is [so and so's] relative" tropes.

 **Warnings:** Blood and gore, supernatural elements, Dean's attitude (and language, and sexual habits, and...you get the picture), outrageous abuse and discarding of canon, and unapologetic representations of female sexuality/sexual habits (no slut shaming, at all, ever).

 **Warning 2.0:** Author, like a magpie, has a tendency to get distracted with things bright and shiny. Or Real Life. Or other stories that are not cooperating at the moment. So, updating might be erratic. Fair warning.

 **Chapter Warning:** This one might be shorter than the last few chapters, but...who the hell knows, right? Basically what you have here a bit of perspective from the two men who loved and were loved by Lily, and whom were left behind when she said good-bye to England (and Magic).

…

"Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along"-Terry Pratchett

…

 **Soliloquies of the War-Torn**

James knew he was a ridiculous, prideful fool. After so many years, he didn't even bother trying to deny it anymore. He'd lost so much—the chance to make amends to a school-boy rival, friendships, and the love of the only woman he'd ever love—to his pride that it would seem a disservice to those his pride harmed to pretend otherwise.

Of course, knowing he had a problem didn't seem to stop him from letting his pride get the better of him...like the time it had convinced him to just wait Lily out, that she'd give up on her fantasy of a "simple, muggle life" and return to him, because he was obviously too good to lose, right? Well, twenty two years of no contact and two kids that weren't his proved otherwise. He was only lucky that Lily was good enough to let him leave on his own terms, and not throw him out on his ass in front of the two little spies he'd seen peeking at him from over the edge of the couch.

He'd been stupid and foolish to think that he was the only one who'd changed. Prideful fool that he was (IS), he hadn't even considered that Lily could have changed, that she would have reason to change, removed as she was from the entire mess.

Honestly, some days he doesn't know how he even survived it, the fighting, the tension and suspicion amongst family and friends, the losses—so many, too many to count. So, yeah, he'd changed...and not for the better, but it was understandable. It was only too bad that it had taken him twenty-odd years to reconcile with the fact that their distance, her miscarriage—so bloody, and awful, and tragic—could have changed Lily as much as the war had changed him.

In context, it was funny to think that of all his regrets, James regretted losing Lily the most. He should have just been grateful that she was alive and happy, but that was almost worse, in a way. If she had died in a way he could not have prevented, it would have been terrible, but not nearly as painful as the reality of his situation. To have lost her to his own twice-damned stubborn...dare he say it, elitist...sense of entitlement, to his pride in his wealth and lineage, well...it was like living with an open wound that you just had to watch fester as treatment after treatment failed.

"Hey, Jamsie! You paying attention?"

"...uh, yeah. Yeah. Sorry, Pads."

Sirius snorted, smiling wryly around the cigarette clamped between his lips. James blushed, looking away. He dared not meet his eyes...Pads knew him too well and would read the lie in an instant. Hell, he probably already knew he was lying without having to see his face. Sirius was fucking aggravating like that.

"Sure you were. Right, so...I'm just going to say this, and get this out there."

"Oh, Merlin. What is it?"

Sirius shrugged. "It's not bad, per se, but you probably don't want to hear it."

"...fuck it all, just tell me."

"You asked, mate. Right...so, it's been eight years since you've seen Lily last."

"Yeah..?"

"That's thirty years...thirty _years_ you have been actively NOT with her, Jamesie. You need to stop trying to shite and get off the fucking pot, already."

"The fuck are you trying to say, Sirius?"

"I'm _saying_ , you stubborn _twat_ , that it is long past time that you should have moved on. This goes way beyond some sort of wistful 'one that got away' nonsense. This obsession of yours crossed over into 'stalker' territory twenty years ago."

James sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, scratching at his gray-flecked stubble. "You're right...fuck, I know you are, but...I can't help that I miss her."

Sirius let out a raspy, barking laugh, a puff of smoke slipping between his lips. "Miss her all you want, but move on," the man met James' eyes for a long moment, rolling them in exasperation at him, "...if you feel the need to make a spectacular ass of yourself, fine...but, you're not going to get the answer you want, so you have to make sure you're ready to say 'enough's enough' when she slams the door in your face."

James bit his lip, swallowing dryly as Sirius' gaze bore into his forehead. Gods, but he really was a pathetic arse. He knew his...ex, and YES, she was his fucking _ex_...well enough to know that if she hadn't already changed her mind, she never was going to change it. He loved her still, and probably always would, but... _but_. His pride would sting like a bastard for 'giving up,' but Sirius was right...enough was really and truly enough. He couldn't anymore, and not just for Lily and her kids, but for himself. He couldn't keep doing this to himself. He needed to let. The fuck. Go.

. . .

Severus sneered at his reflection. He may be fifty, but he looked closer to ninety, even taking into account the supposed "decelerated rate of aging" that those with magic were known for. Fuck if the war hadn't aged him beyond his years. Still, losing Lily, well...it went without saying that that had taken its own toll on his health.

The fact that James fucking Potter looked nearly as wrecked and old as he did was little consolation. Even if he loved seeing his old enemy looking a wreck, his twice-damned Pureblood Pride in tatters, Severus couldn't truly enjoy the sight. He knew he looked just as miserable, if not more so, having even fewer looks to lose to begin with than the blasted Brat Prince.

He knocked back his scotch in one swallow. Lily would have teased him, once upon a time, that this was even more proof that he suited Slytherin House, as no other person "could unhitch their jaw like some great, bloody snake just for a bit of booze." Severus grimaced.

"Fucking pitiful." The bartender shot him a glance from the corner of his eye, which he ignored.

He'd called himself pitiful many times as an awkward preteen, and even more as a gangly, pale teenager panting after his oblivious best friend. It was pathetically sad that he was still saying it, all these years later, but it was nonetheless true. He'd been a pitiful scrap of awkwardness as a preteen, a pitiful mass of confused hormones at sixteen, and was now a pitiful old curmudgeon at fifty.

His thin hand clenched around the empty tumbler. Gods, but he hated James Potter. Granted, he'd hated the man for years, but this hate...this hate was a hate born of watching the stupid arse spit in the face of the love he didn't deserve and leave it to wither and die for over two decades. This was a hate born of watching the man moon about for nearly a third decade, moaning about what he'd lost, as if he wasn't to blame for his miserable state.

Severus would have killed to be in James' shoes, once upon a time. Quite literally, in fact. He would have happily murdered James in cold blood if he knew for a fact that he'd get his Happily Ever After with Lily, despite offing her pathetic husband...now ex-husband. He grit his teeth, looking away from his own reflection in disgust.

Even more than he hated James Potter, though, he hated himself. He could have packed his bags and headed out into the great muggle wilderness once it became obvious that fucking Potter had let his pride get the best of him...but, he hadn't. He could have taken the chance to go out and visit Lily when Potter finally went out to see his ex, only to return with his tail between his legs...but he hadn't. He could show up Potter in the best way possible, by packing his bags right now and tracking her down the minute he set foot in the States, but...well, he wasn't sure he'd do that, either.

He wanted to. Gods, yes. Still, would she want to see him?

Severus grimaced. No, probably not, but if he wanted to prove, once and for all, who was the better man between him and Potter, there would be no better way than this to do so. Cracked, yellowing fingernails dug into the dingy wood of the bar top.

Fuck it.

He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt, slapping a handful of galleons on the counter as he stumbled out.

. . .

Arthritic knees protested, loudly, as their owner landed, feet first, on hard-packed dirt. Severus sneered, dusting off his second-hand muggle suit. A pitiful bouquet of flowers looked wilted in the unnaturally bright afternoon. Slowly, he pulled out his wand.

"Point me 'Lily Evans'."

Nothing for a moment, and then his wand wobbled. It gave a halfhearted spin in either direction, then slowed to a stop.

...huh.

"Point me 'Lily Potter'."

The wand sputtered, slowly starting to spin again, back and forth in either direction before sputtering to a stop once more. Fuck. He slid a hand down his face, pushing back a few gray strands of limp hair. If this was Fate, Destiny, Fuck all whomever's way of saying 'don't bother,' he didn't appreciate it. Severus sighed.

He hadn't even considered that Lily wouldn't have still called herself Lily, but he should have. He only hoped Minerva knew what name Lily was going by now, because like hell was he going to ask Potter...

Well, maybe...as a last resort.

Probably.

[end]


End file.
